


Sparring is the Best Substitution for ...

by fizzypunk



Series: finding equal ground [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Frottage, Intimacy, M/M, NSFW, Sexual Frustration, Sparring, neji is sort of a jerk in this one, sexually repressed neji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25157728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzypunk/pseuds/fizzypunk
Summary: Because no one can piss you off or get under your skin more than your immodest boyfriend.
Relationships: Hyuuga Neji/Nara Shikamaru
Series: finding equal ground [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807783
Comments: 11
Kudos: 77





	Sparring is the Best Substitution for ...

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt ‘sparring to turn into sex’ + no shadow ninjutsu allowed. 
> 
> also i'm by no means implying shikamaru is a weak fighter, but i do think he grows reliant on shadows that he might lose touch with hand to hand if he didn't have the ability to use shadows!
> 
> lowkey inspired by [this post](https://dazaiapologism.tumblr.com/post/175723071314/both-sharingan-and-byakugan-would-be-useless-in-an) that made me cackle

The mission was a success -- a debatable success, but no one came back in pieces, and there were none declared MIA, so a ninja or bureaucrat couldn’t really complain about the technicalities. The problem in this mission is that it could have gone awry, and it nearly did, if it weren’t for sheer luck -- and if there’s any rule of combat, or classified missions, it’s that luck is the last thing you want to a plan to rely on or boil down to. The words “luck” and “survive”, though favorable, only invoke a cold chill in Shikamaru -- the fates weren’t what he wanted to put his faith in, after all.

Except, that’s exactly the situation he was in. 

Shikamaru got _lucky_ a week ago -- and lucky him, he was able to come back home with a mission that balanced on the brink of disaster, a slim margin of error avoided through the actions of his team. His team did good, but the only thing that actually means that he should have done better.

Shikamaru is a good shinobi, but he’s a long-range fighter with a sharp mind -- the margin of error he lives in is one he got too comfortable with. Putting that up against multiple close range assailants was a bad recipe, one that ended with _luck_.

“You could have _died_ !” Ino yelled at him, and she was right, because he got cocky when too many things were going right -- chuunin _know_ better.

“I don’t want to hear the words _lucky_ and _barely survived_ again, you hear me, Nara?” Sakura scolded, mending the chakra system injuries he walked away with, and he decided that he was too far in the wrong to really debate her.

“Shikamaru, I need to feel confident in your next mission,” Kakashi sighed, boredom peaking as he addressed him over a hugely neglected pile of paperwork and intelligence reports. “I’d hate to lose you to… avoidable circumstance.”

“Are you _stupid_ , Shikamaru?” Naruto yelled at him on a ritual food run. “Honestly, it’s always the smart ones who are the dumbest… and you tell _me_ to train more, how ‘bout saying the same for yourself!”

Naruto had talked much longer, and much louder, and Shikamaru was left with a slight headache that stayed with him throughout the rest of his mission debrief.

The truth was unavoidable. The oracles had spoken. He needed more training, and he needed to work on recognizing the skills he relied on could be the ones that turn on him. He needed to carry out missions that wouldn’t put him at risk if long-range shadow possessions and wit weren’t enough.

What he needed was tai-jutsu.

It made sense that in light of his weaknesses coming to the forefront of recognition of his peers _and_ the Hokage, Neji would be the one to make the offer. “Do you want to train with me?”

If he could fight a prodigy, if he could claim a win against one of the Hyuuga...

“Sure, sounds like a blast. Just makes sure you don’t go _too_ easy.” 

Even if it’s to rid Neji of a fraction of his tangible, almost _touchable_ pride -- Neji practically beamed at the idea of training, and teaching, and _winning_ \-- that somehow was more important than practicing in order to be a better, more capable shinobi. 

“You know,” Shikamaru continued over their shared meal, because baiting Neji is fun, and he is never able to stop himself from dangling the idea of _losing_ in front of him. “Since you’re a bit soft on me.”

Shikamaru did not take comfort in the smile that answered him, nor the way it deepened the self-assured curve of his eyes.

~

“Nara.”

God, that word. That _tone_. It was like fire -- not that which fills a Leaf shinobi with pride, but that which turns an arsonists desire into action.

It was inflammatory, words shaped around the upturn of a smile that was _too_ confident. The glare that accompanied it was taunting, a remixing of the tone Shikamaru himself used when they first talked about sparring. 

What a mistake.

_“Is that all,”_ was in the subtext, in the lopsided upturn of his lips.

“Stop calling me that,” Shikamaru said, pushing off the hot, flattened dirt of the training grounds and standing. He knew that if he were to let that anger in him seep out, rattle him more than he already was, it would be just another victory for the Hyuuga standing on the other side of the field.

“What, you don’t like me calling you by your name?” Neji said, feet squared off in the most casual of defensive stances. His hands weren’t even up, and nothing about the way he stood would have indicated that he had just sent Shikamaru across the field with a single rotation.

This wasn’t what Shikamaru had intended -- though, when he thinks back to when he accepted his offer to train, it didn’t make practical sense to bait a _Hyuuga_. A noble. 

_He’s a fucking weapon_ , was all Shikamaru had rolling through-out his head.

“You know what I mean,” Shikamaru gritted out, trying and failing to keep the sheer frustration from his voice -- it shook, vibrations like waves of realization hitting him as he realized how ill-prepared he truly was. He’d taken on more than his fair share of fighting, of hand-to-hand, but that always came with the aid of the shadows.

The same shadows he now couldn’t use. It was the same as having an arm tied behind his back, distracting to the point dithering frustration.

_Think_. 

But then there’s adrenaline, and a field of distance between them, and _that_ tone that laced the Hyuuga’s voice in an irritatingly aggravating. It was clear provocation, plain and simple -- something Neji did without shame.

Maybe it’s a tactic -- it’d be a good one, if that were the strategy plotted down that allowed Neji to do the least, while achieving the most.

_Make your enemy pissed off, get them to self-destruct_ . _Turn them into their own adversary_

Hell, he’d done it in the field. It’s an excellent strategy.

“Maybe, but don’t you think you have bigger things to think about?” 

And the way he wasn’t even sweating -- it was _definitely_ a tactic, and the worst part is that it was working.

Shikamaru was standing, legs firm with agitation and desire to just _do_ something, but with restraint enough to hold back. “What, are you gonna talk about it, or are you going to --”

“What, you’re mad at me? It looks like you could use the break, but by all means, Shikamaru…” And with the flick of the wrist, he gestured toward himself. 

_If you think you can_ , was the subtext. 

“Just try to calm down a little,” was the strategy, and the smirk was just _Neji_.

The part that annoyed Shikamaru the most was the fact that planning and strategy wasn’t a part of this fight where he himself was concerned. There was no hidden agenda to ascertain, nor was there a militant force to face off against in the form of positions, tactics, formations. There were no secrets of the land, just the training field at the height of the sun in a hot July day -- nothing that would lend to a tactic that would suddenly make a master out of him and hand-to-hand combat.

All there was was Neji, across the field he’d spent much of his genin life in, and a huge gap of space between them made of hot dirt patches and flattened grass. He stood there with Gentle Fist and 8 Trigrams, and every other assortment of the Hyuuga’s amassed combat knowledge and clan specialties, all of which Shikamaru knew of but had no readily available defenses against.

There was a dry heat, plastering stray hairs to his forehead in a sweat that was more disgusting than anything else.

Then, there was the rule. _No shadows._

And that’s what put him _here_ , in this position, where he can see the shadows in his opponents eyes but couldn’t use his own shadows to his advantage.

Here, with an aggressively taunting boyfriend who wouldn’t go easy on him no matter what. And so it goes like that with Shikamaru nearly always on _defense_. They fall into a pattern, where Neji charges with clear intention, and Shikamaru deflects because Neji’s faster than him, and he wouldn’t be able to land a hit. He attempts to deflect again, to take out a kunai, only to have a whirlwind encompass him and redirect him as easily as the breeze carries a leaf away.

Shikamaru gritted his teeth _._

_Think. Strategize. Assess, ascertain, do something!_

Shikamaru hadn’t said anything in too long, and each passing second was like oxygen to Neji’s assessment of him -- 

“This isn’t realistic.”

Neji took a couple of steps forwards -- like he wasn’t trying, like he was on a stroll to the market.

“Hmm?” He stopped, but Shikamaru knew better.

“You _know_ I’d be using every tool in my arsenal.”

Neji’s eyes narrowed, and Shikamaru has to admit that it’s a weak talking point. “This isn’t about your arsenal -- this is about what happens when your hands are _tied_.”

“There’s nothing that could --”

“Shadows are not in the cards, Shikamaru, no matter how frustrated you are.”

A complaint rose and then died in Shikamaru’s throat, a knot tied in his tongue.

_God, is it the heat?_

Shikamaru shook his head. “I might be frustrated, but that’s just because of your _mouth_.”

_Is it how attractive Neji is?_

“Oh to be a genius -- is that what you say in all battles?” The radiating smugness is almost enough to make Shikamaru hate him. “And talking isn’t doing you any favors, by the way. Pick a better excuse next time.”

_Why can’t I fucking think?_

Shikamaru fought the urge to form the seals… The sun was just off kilter, their shadows were long…

“Me, talking? Funny, since you haven’t stopped running your mouth this whole time” Shikamaru said, weakly, because that’s what it was -- feeble and time-buying, nothing short of see-through intentions.

But Neji wasn’t interested in talking anymore -- and Shikamaru almost missed it, when the second passed and that calm gait turned into a sprint.

“Shit--”

Most don’t get that close -- a hand in his peripheral that Shikamaru blocked with his right forearm.

_“No shadows,”_ whispered past his ears.

_This_ was too harsh -- harsher than he ever expected out of training.

“Fuck, _Neji_ \--”

Neji parried the hand that deflected his open palm on Shikamaru’s arm, just to hook it around his elbow and toss him into the ground like a sack of dirt.

The air nearly left Shikamaru, if not for his feet that landed square before Neji’s momentum could bury him through to the ground completely. He was held in an elbow lock still, free hand to his side waiting for the right moment to…

_Shit. Where can I hit him that he won’t see?_

Gusts of brown dirt swirled around them from the acrobats of Neji’s feet, caught in a dry tornado caused solely by the Hyuuga and suspended in the breathless winds.

Shikamaru just needed him to let go, to disconnect their bodies so Neji could stop rolling each block into a new momentum, a new direction to carry his arms like sticky-hands on a doll.

_How, do I get a hand on him when he can just use rotation as soon as he sees my movements?_

Shikamaru shifted his feet and ducked under the back end of a tight, wrapped hand, so intent that Shikamaru didn’t want to imagine the pain it would have instilled.

He went low, nowhere near graceful in his grappling as he pushed into Neji’s torso.

Neji stood wide, avoiding the dangerous style of the Gentle Fist his clan had developed but still maintaining its form -- the arms that came to wrap around him were barely able to touch down before --

“ROTATION!”

And what little grip Shikamaru had on Neji was gone, uprooted as he was tossed aside _again_.

Maybe he was being merciful, since this rotation did not send him as far.

But then --

“Frustrated?” He said, voice following the path he sent Shikamaru careening toward.

Neji followed his path, and stood over Shikamaru, hands fast and laced into the front of his shirt, lifting him up ever so slightly.

Shikamaru couldn’t move --

_What is this?_

“ _Frustrated?_ Neji, you’re trying to kill me!”

Neji shook his head, and in the halo of the sun, Neji’s hair fell into his leer. “Tsk, _dramatic_ . I’m trying to keep you _alive_.”

“Not _three_ rotations in a row, Neji! Why are you trying to bite my head off?”

His hands came up to grab the thin, powerful wrists that held him hostage. 

“Do you want me to remind you how your last mission went?”

“ _Neji!_ ”

“Or the mission through the land of rice?”

_“There’s a difference b--_ ”

“No, there’s not, and if you’d think beyond _us_ , and how easily my words affect you, you might be standing _right now_.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Was all Shikamaru had in him. Where did this anger come from? Why did it infiltrate his now smoldering gaze?

Neji raised an eyebrow, a delicate arch, as if in realization. His hands loosened in their grip, and Shikamaru opened his mouth to speak.

Neji beat him to that shared goal. “Do we need a reset?”

The pride in Shikamaru didn’t want to say it back -- the truth was that he wanted to fucking fight him, not cede to an unrealistic reset, but he knew it was needed. He felt the annoyance overtake his expression, where once upon a time he couldn’t be bothered. 

“... fine, _reset._ ”

The settlement between them was tense, but not unappreciated-- they didn’t often spend time sparring, it was never in the cards when it comes to timing, and duties, and _desire_ to even do it. But, when they did, they knew the need to reassess.

To turn a critical eye to the situation. The question of, _is this method working?_

It clearly was fucking not.

He didn’t want to feel bitter when Neji switched out his hands bunched up in his shirt for a helping one to pull him up, and he didn’t want to feel it even when the few minutes of break they had allowed for him to adjust.

Where was he going wrong? Of course, it was Neji, and it was _frustrating_ . That was the kindest word he could use to describe the annoyance flooding through him and overwriting his thoughts. It was Neji, his friend, his _boyfriend_ …

It’s true, no one else gets under skin like your partner.

He was stretching, popping his back while Neji sat across the field staring off in the opposite direction, pretending like he wasn’t watching Shikamaru. The man didn’t have a mark on him, or any sign of distress, and Shikamaru stretched harder because _fuck_.

Neji was the picture of being at-ease. He looked as purposefully poised and relaxed as did whenever they had lunch together, or when they played games late into the night, or when they went on long nature walks.

Shikamaru hummed to himself, looking down to his feet and willing the pout as far away from his lips as possible. It wouldn’t work to expose his inner thoughts more than he already had, after all.

If he were honest with himself, half the frustrations rising in him were rooted in the knowledge of knowing Neji _had_ been beat before. He _witnessed_ it, and by a ninja who had little to his name besides careless antics, weak chakra control, but a huge heart and amount of determination.

Shikamaru was leagues away from that point in time, and he’d been in the field long enough to have the experience and scars to prove it.

But...

_There’s no use thinking of this like physical strategy_.

There was a reason Naruto won, and it wasn’t from a place of being more tactical. It wasn’t even intentional, but Shikamaru knew what it was the instant he watched Neji get clocked.

Shikamaru smirked, and for once during this whole training mess, he felt confident. 

_You’ve been thinking about this two-dimensionally._

It was all starting to pull together, the messy strings of strategy being pulled taut in just a few moments.

_Distractions. Upsetting the natural order. Got it._

Shikamaru stood at attention, facing Neji with a strategy in mind. Neji, ever watchful, looked toward him before standing.

“You know, I actually think I know what’s happening,” he started off, dusting off his knees for show. “You’re not attacking me like we’re enemies because you _care_ that I improve.”

Shikamaru spent a lot of time learning to read the Hyuuga, and what might have been unnoticed by most, was _not_ something that could get by Shikamaru. His lips twitched ever so slightly, and his eyes narrowed the slightest of bits.

“I think,” he went on, because, to date, smirking in the face of overconfidence was one of the most entertaining ways of clocking that confidence that he’d discovered. “Personally, you seem to be a little antsy. If I didn’t know better, you seem like you’re lashing out.”

“Don’t be --”

“Sort of like… I don’t know, you need attention…”

“Shi--”

This time, Shikamaru could feel proud about the kick off, because he was already at the offense, and this time it was _different_.

Neji was always prepared, but this time the placid expression he’d been wearing had turned sour. And even in the sprint toward him, it was easy to see this expectant expression on his features as Shikamaru approached, fast and direct and then --

He was about to _deflect_ \-- rotate against the very plain attack being leveled at him, just as Shikamaru entered his chakra range. Except, he didn’t.

Shikamaru feigned to the left, exiting the diameter of Neji’s chakra, lowering his chest toward the ground to leverage himself into a skid, sliding across the dirt with his feet as he took out a Kunai.

“So much Pride in yourself,” he said, tossing the kunai upward with the target being shiny hitai-ate. “You’re acting a little too emotional out here, Neji.”

_Since we’re not pulling punches_.

Neji ducked, missing the trajectory with a surprised but a retrieved pseudo-calm expression. “You’re hardly the first to say --”

And then Shikamaru feigned to the right, again, drawing up closer to the Hyuuga in one long stride.

“You’re right, maybe I’m reading it wrong,” and then three shuriken, compelling Neji to rotate, or else be forced back several steps. 

“Maybe,” and he entered the ring, the orb of blue chakra that just dissipated as Neji’s rotation came to an end, “Maybe it’s something else.”

Neji wouldn’t have normally let him get this close, except his attention wasn’t on the ground Shikamaru was gaining.

_If mind games are all it takes…_

He was using rudimentary tactics, and yet…

Shikamaru pushed into the center with a speed he never normally employed, into Neji. His hands rose up from underneath to push out the hands that, Shikamaru was proud to see, were poised just in front of his chest as a last barrier between Neji and potential attacks.

“If it’s not pride that’s making you attack me like I’m fucking Akatsuki,” he said, and there’s an honest question in there -- he knew it was _something_ , but he didn’t know what that something was.

They were at a stand still, arms parried, a kunai held backwards so the ring was to Neji’s neck in the safest way possible. “What is it? What’s got you so heated, Hyuuga?” He all but spit out.

The victory is sweet, especially when Neji finally _shut up_.

He saw it in his body language, the jarring tilt to his hips like he was about to move -- Shikamaru countered it, fast, hooking his right ankle around Neji’s left shin, toppling him in the easiest win he’s ever had.

He landed with one foot pressed to the dirt outside of Neji’s thigh, the other knee messily caught between his legs with an ankle caught underneath Neji’s shin. 

Shikamaru discarded the kunai mid fall, hands planted on either side of Neji.

Shikamaru was almost glowing with fulfilment, feeling it spread throughout him like the warmth of alcohol; feeling full of it, his sense of accomplishment immediately overwhelmed every other sense.

“That was a little too easy,” He whispered, breath coming fast and quiet, restraining against the temptation to smile because his victory was _too_ easy.

“Maybe you were just _lucky_ ,” was the reply, laced in a cattiness he rarely used, “you seem to get lucky more often than not, it would seem.”

“Hmm, there’s that word -- lucky. That’s the one I’m trying to avoid.”

There was no need for pretense to be kept up, it was obvious who won -- and yet, the hand that wasn’t holding him above the Hyuuga was still pinning him down by the wrists.

“Maybe it’s all you get.”

And _that_ was the wrong thing to say -- Shikamaru’s brow furrowed, eyes narrowing to a point he could only hope was sharp enough to pierce. “Are you _trying_ to piss me off, or have you just lost all sense of --”

“It’s just the truth, and if you --“

And, by conspiracy of the fates or, more likely, the need for Shikamaru to shift his legs out of an uncomfortable position, that movement was enough to stop the Hyuuga dead in his tracks.

His leg, right between Neji’s legs -- carrying most of Shikamaru’s weight, the tilt that rubbed Neji in just the right way.

He was hard.

It made a little more sense, now. 

“So, _this_ is what’s gotten into you.” He couldn’t help snickering. “And you’re the one calling _me_ frustrated.”

And then, even further back in his memory, he remembers when Neji called _him_ childish…

A laugh broke out from Shikamaru without his permission, a rumble low and intense and inspired by the change of direction this match took. The returned expression of indignation and embarrassment on Neji’s face was almost enough to spur on a laugh that could have been interpreted as rude… 

He didn’t care, and it gave Shikamaru an edge he didn’t know he wanted.

“Didn’t think you’d rather choose to fight me over sleeping with me.”

A huff.

“Was this whole thing about that? Were you _really_ interested in helping me with taijutsu, or was it because --” and he rolled his dipped knee, his thigh following in suit _firmly_ against Neji, “You wanted this?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, if I wanted, I would have --”

“Am I, though?” 

“So you think just because you win _once_ , you get cocky and --”

Another shift, and the wisp of air that came out of Neji’s lips derailed his words.

It was a humbling experience, it must have been -- Neji’s words and carefully, purposefully antagonizing intentions disappeared in the blink of an eye. What was left was Neji, back to the dirt and hands pinned in a way he certainly could have removed himself from if that was what he wanted.

Shikamaru leaned in, dropping to both knees to bring their lips together in a short but strong kiss. “Did you throw the fight?”

Neji’s eyes widened a fraction, but his lips remained tightly sealed.

Shikamaru chuckled. He’s never felt so elated from a fight, and fuck it all, he’s not even mad at the reason _why_ he won. If anything, the underlying motivation of Neji was worth savoring because it had cost him his awareness -- it took a few words, a few insights, to pull his desires to the forefront of their attention, and that’s all it took to get Neji beneath him.

Shikamaru pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then down his jaw, pressing into the sensitive skin just below Neji’s ear. “You’re never gonna admit it, are you?”

His thighs shifted deliberately, causing friction that could not be ignored. He felt the shiver riding up Neji, the way his hands jerked against the sensation, fingers curling and then forcefully relaxing in the air…

“You saw what I was doing…”

A kiss, eliciting a shiver, but not yet a word.

“You just let me do it -- feign to the right, distract, and then not follow through on a rotation…”

A wetter kiss, lapping up against the side of his neck.

“You’ve sent me flying with a finger’s hold on you, so many times because fighting is like _walking_ to you-- but when it comes to _this_ ,” and he unhooked his leg, retrieving it from the chasm of space between Neji’s thighs so he could rest his weight just on Neji’s naval. He took his hands back, releasing the tight grip clasped around Neji’s wrist, to sit comfortably while he stared down in admiration.

“I think this was just too big a distraction. It’s easier this way, too, isn’t it? You like the pretense of fighting, don’t you? We can touch, and you don’t have to say a word of what you really want.”

“It’s not like that…”

“Isn’t it?” His hands rested comfortably over the fabric of his shirt. His fingers fidgeted against the fabric, paying special attention to the quivering skin just beneath as they trailed side to side. “Tell me I won then.”

It would have been an easy request, if it wasn’t a dare.

“Tell me we’ve done enough training, and we can leave now. I’ll get up.”

Nothing -- but like underwater currents, Neji was stirring ever so slightly, pale skin gaining a pink glow that definitely wasn’t due to _sparring_.

“Tell me,” and he took his right hand, snaking it around his side to grope backwards, at the juncture of Neji’s thigh. “Tell me you’re not hard right now.”

He knew he was, but it wasn’t about _knowing_. It was about saying.

And that was exactly what Neji didn’t do, and Shikamaru kept his focus on him like he was being dared _not_ to. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, a gentle accompaniment to his next words. “What do you say, when I move my hand and reconfirm what I felt a minute ago…”

“You get on my nerves when you’re like this…”

Shikamaru laughed, fingers flexing against the strong muscles in Neji’s lean thighs and enjoying the shudder that came in response. “I know I do. You do a pretty good job yourself, getting on mine.”

Shikamaru asked for permission with a look -- a patiently awaiting one, one that could and would lovingly wait however long he needed, be it hours or days. It’s the pride that makes things like _this_ impossible -- Neji is one who never strays from the path he sets himself on, and when he wants something, he’ll get it -- just in the most unconventional way possible.

Some days, it’s up to Shikamaru to see the intention set before him, and be the last puzzle piece to lay down -- so long as he was okay with it being assembled.

If what he wants is Shikamaru… then getting him means getting under him.

Shikamaru leaned into their space again, noting but not remarking on the shiver he felt come from the other when he removed his hand from his thigh. He blocked out the sky, shadow framing Neji and his messy halo of mocha hair. There was maybe a foot’s breadth between their faces, and the tension was a balance -- the want, versus the lost words lodged between sharp and relentless Hyuuga teeth, versus the very public training ground around them…

“Was this fun for you?” Shikamaru whispered, like the trees were listening.

For the first time, he saw the ever spinning gears of control slow down, unwind in the sudden release of breath that came from Neji. The guard in his eyes loosened around the edges, and smoothness started to overcome the pinched agitation once lining his eyes.

“It was, at first…”

“You didn’t plan for this, did you?”

Shikamaru loves seeing Neji blush -- something that’s, evidently, easy if he’s hard.

He shook his head, swallowing. “I…”

“That makes two of us,” and Shikamaru points toward their bodies with his eyes, down toward his dick that was now rock hard. Stomach coiling, the remnant of heat starting its familiar build, Shikamaru laughed dryly. “You know… you’ve given me a lot of confidence here, I don’t think you’re gonna like that.”

Neji smiled despite himself, despite the squirming Shikamaru politely ignores. “Really? Are you going to make me pay, then?”

Shikamaru leans in a bit more. “Keep up that tone, and I might just do that.”

“You’re sure you won’t call it a day, since it’s too much work?”

“Maybe I _should_ leave you here to fix your problem on your own,” and then a chuckle because the brief flash of _please don’t_ was evident, and gods knows that’s rare beyond compare -- his eyes widened at Shikamaru, as if he truly thought he would make good on his word.

Their lips don’t meet yet, and it’s intentional -- despite his efforts to shut his brain up, despite the hardness between his legs, Shikamaru is already steps ahead…

Only a few steps ahead. Not 200, not 100 -- 

He might be distracted after all... but not enough not to know his next words.

Neji looks like he thinks he could breach the last inch between their lips and quickly steal a kiss, but Shikamaru pulls back when he tries just that. He doesn’t move to hold his arms down to the side, or press him against the ground in some pointless show of strength -- he does nothing except retreat an inch.

“We’re in public, Neji… I’m gonna need you to tell me we’re safe, that we’re alone.”

He rolls his hips just a bit, and Neji sucks in a breath.

“Look around us. Tell me what you see.”

“Shikama--”

“No, I mean it,” and he feigns left this time, into the curve of Neji’s neck. “Use your Byakugan, and tell me what you see around us. I’m not about to debauch you when there’s the possibility of a genin team coming to the fields -- could you imagine that?”

Shikamaru wasn’t an expert when it came to intimacy, and especially _this_ kind of intimacy when it involved Neji -- but the struggle in the normally decided body beneath him, inherent, was so painfully obvious, he might have held him close if there weren’t other… things that needed attending.

Neji’s breath was uneven, a shudder against his hovering lips in a way he’d never seen him before. Like a flower, if he wanted to be poetic -- like a flower at the end of spring, wispy threads of composure losing out to the heat, to the gusts of air that only had to blow in order to fall apart.

And he did fall apart, like lips on glistening, sweat slick nerves -- Shikamaru kept his distance from his skin, enough to speak half-commands. “Tell me… what do you see?”

He kissed slowly, feeling tendons contract and grow taut, alert under him. A not-quite gasp erupted from Neji, flowing into the next words, “Hnn… nothing…”

“How far out are you looking?”

“Twenty meters…”

Shikamaru sighed out a _tsk_. “Further. Give me twenty-five.”

“No one…”

“Thirty,” before a slow swipe of the tongue, ending at the inner corner of his jaw.

_That_ was it, that was the precipice of _too much_ . Neji’s back arched inward, searching for the warmth of Shikamaru’s body to press against, pulling a needy whine through him that nearly knocked the breath out of Shikamaru. “ _No one… nothing, just birds_ …”

Maybe this isn’t what he had in mind or would have thought this afternoon to evolve -- definitely not with his knees in the dirt, or the sun like a magnifying glass to an already dry, summer tussle. He would have thought it gross, the image of the rivets of sweat dragging down his throat like an antidote to the idea of undressing each other --

Then there are the sounds that Neji can make, high pitch and obedient and entirely too much a temptation to ignore. There’s a world of possibilities opening up beneath him and, suddenly, it’s okay if he has to get a little dirty to unlock them all. He can’t be mad about it, not with the picture Neji paints. He’s too… pretty, too astonishingly attractive that it’s a wonder Shikamaru can bear to look at him at all.

And to be sweat slick, unexpectedly timid like a bird doubting if he can fly…

Shikamaru can guess why, but he’s never spoken to confirm or deny it. In the short time they’ve been together, they’ve yet to reach certain intimacies, and it all came in due time to the timeline Neji set. Discussions were short and parsed out, but of his reluctant willingness, Shikamaru didn’t have to look far to see where that stemmed from, and why he hesitated in acts of vulnerability.

It takes a lot for Neji to not retaliate, to turn himself over to another’s care.

Shikamaru plants a tiny kiss to Neji’s cheek, and it’s always astonishing that he gets to _do_ that. His hands rest casually on his solar plexus, more so as a symbol of trust and patience rather than to hold himself up. He can almost feel Neji’s heart beat, and it brings Shikamaru’s heart to thunder in response.

He kisses him, and the emptiness of the field, swallowed up in the heat, was filled with the wet sound of Neji kissing back.

“This isn’t what I imagined…”

“Me neither,” Neji says, breathless.

_Gods, his voice…_

Shikamaru tasted salt, pulling his bottom lip into the loose hold of his teeth for the briefest moment. “I like you when you’re trying to kill me.”

“I wasn’t _actually_ \--”

“-- It’s kind of hot.”

It was a gods-sent feeling to make him go silent -- knowing that Shikamaru was enough to turn Neji’s words and confidence upside down.

He kissed him again, but was already getting antsy -- they’ve been at _this_ pull and push too long, and the ache deep in his stomach was demanding more and more of his attention. With this persistent feeling driving him, Shikamaru crawled backwards on his knees, a few paces that also brought him over the satisfying bulge in Neji’s pants, and landed just beyond his hips. His thighs enclosed around Neji with all his kneeling weight, their crotch’s aligned.

Neji leaned up on two elbows -- it was a shame Shikamaru couldn’t feel the beat of his heart, because the blown out look shaping his eyes was one of excitement and anticipation.

Shikamaru pressed his right hand to cup the hefty bulge in Neji’s training pants, and _gods give me strength_. 

He swallowed, throat parched. “Gods, you’re so…”

There were too many words to end that train of thought, so Shikamaru ended it himself with an experimental squeeze, prompting another nearly-extinguished whine from Neji. 

He couldn’t waste any more time, already undoing sash that kept him in the restraints of modesty. With a moments time, it was un-fastened, and at the urging tug and lift of hips, Neji was freed.

Shikamaru wanted to gawk or admire or just _stare_ , but there was time for that, and like a slow dissolving pill that finally burst, he could no longer contain himself --

“ _Shhh…”_ Like Neji wanted to say his name, but stopped -- Shikamaru’s thumb circled the pink head of his long, slender dick, spreading the wetness blooming across the slit.

Neji twitched in his hand, and twitched in the slow, methodical down strokes, the impatient, quick up strokes. Every moment was something to savor and with great reluctance, he savored it with awe-filled eyes, as Neji said nothing despite _nearly begging_ for everything.

The sounds of wet, slick slapping filled the vacuum of the training field, and no matter how hard he tried (or didn’t), Shikamaru couldn’t hear a damn thing beside it.

“Ahh…”

Shikamaru leaned into the cramped space between them, the slow pace of his pumping hand set and final. “Come on, Neji, look at me --” he wanted his voice to come off strong and in control, just for a moment, but the effect was lukewarm at best -- a tint made of arousal and the burning need to watch Neji tremble.

Neji slowly raised his eyes to Shikamaru, the pace set between them tortuously slow-- his lips were sealed, his chest raising and falling like a turbulent tide on the coast. 

“Are we still alone,” Shikamaru asks, because it’s practical, not because he enjoys seeing Neji struggle to do simple things.

His Byakugan existed for a mere moment, on the up stroke and twist of Shikamaru’s hand, and --

_“Nnn -- yes…”_

Shikamaru’s quickened his movements, and Neji tensed under him.

Hastily, and embarrassingly clumsy, Shikamaru’s free hand undid his own pants and, with a second to readjust, he was finally rid of his pants, now pushed down onto his thighs.

“Fuck… Shikamaru…”

He held them together, and Neji didn’t appear upset with the interruption of pace because his eyes stayed wide and at the picture of the two of them made together.

“This good…?”

Neji nodded in the most hurried, careless way, “Yes, _yes_ , faster…”

And he did, sloppily between their two different sized dicks, and it took a second before he was able to find just the right way to hold on to the both of them, but then he found it and --

Gods, _this felt right_ \-- Neji’s skin warm and sticky against his, the way he wanted to thrust into it but _didn’t_ , the sounds that were being held back in Neji, that didn’t dissipate but instead only made him vibrate harder under Shikamaru.

His elbows were loosing their strength, biceps shivering under Shikamaru’s ministrations.

“Mmmfff…” Before he gracelessly fell back onto one elbow, and then again onto his back when Shikamaru _squeezed_.

“Neji… ah…” 

If Shikamaru heard that Neji could be so pliant, so abashed just from _this_ … he’d have never believed it, but at the same time he’d have done anything he could just to get his hands around him sooner. And with him laid out on his back, shattering from Shikamaru’s hand alone...

But then Neji bit his lip, chin tilting up to the sky in a hurried move to cover his eyes with his hand. Palm to the sky, quickening breath, a lip caught between teeth on the edge of puncturing…

Neji tensed under him, and it was enough to spur on that unforgiving heat in his belly, the tightness in his balls that --

“Neji, Neji, please…” Shikamaru almost chanted, syllables struggling to find form as he reached his spare hand out.

“Hey, hey,” He grasped the open palm that his Neji’s eyes from sight, moving it aside to press his weight onto their two connected hands. “It’s okay,” he whispered, seeking out the white orbs that could barely keep from closing, sensing the problem behind it all, the motivation for his lover to be so tucked away in his mind. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, hand speeding up between them. “You’re fucking me up too…”

It’s not even easy for Shikamaru to lock eyes, or hold a gaze, in the midst of passion, but this was _the_ exception-- the reason to risk the intimacy laying beneath him, making it finally _okay_ to risk that intimacy at all...

“Neji, I’m not gonna make it…”

Neji’s throat was so exposed, he could see every tension build, every moment of pleasure mapped out in shuddering breaths -- every word as it was spoken. “ _I’m… gods, I can’t…”_

_What can’t you?_

Shikamaru kissed his jaw, the closest thing to kiss. “Come on…”

“ _No…”_

Shikamaru shifted, enough to lace their fingers together. “ _Let go with me…”_

Nearly imperceptibly, Neji shook his head, eyes screwing shut against the flush on his cheeks. 

_Why?_

He had no idea what this was, just ideas and sounds and feelings meshing together -- just specters of thoughts that he was in no position to put together let alone analyze. But what he did know, is that Neji was holding back... 

Shikamaru let the two of them go in a quick moments decision, filling his hand with Neji and Neji alone.

Neji squeezed where their fingers were interlocked. “Shikamaru!”

_Trust me_. 

Shikamaru smirked, ignoring his needs because _this was so much better_. “Try this with me, okay?”

Neji’s free hand climbed up Shikamaru’s thigh, hands like claws, squeezing hard enough that there would be bruises in no time at all. He wasn’t asking to _stop_ , he wasn’t asking for permission --

He was asking _if it’s okay_. 

Shikamaru couldn’t ever imagine the answer being _no._

That hold, that resistance, was giving away like a rock slide, and Neji knew it -- his legs were trembling under Shikamaru’s weight, the only thing, he thinks, that was grounding him.

That, and the words whispered into his ear like a secret. “Neji… you sound so good… you feel so good… you see what you’re doing to me…”

_“Shi… shika,”_ like syllables were as close to speech he could get, but Shikamaru knew where this train of thought was going. “ _I’m about --_ ”

Shikamaru raised himself just enough to look between them, hovering over his lips just for the sake of tasting the urgency of his breath. It cascaded from him like quiet torrents, soft moans floating out on the waves at the final break of his resistance.

Shikamaru just got a glimpse of Neji spurting in his hand, between their two sweaty bodies, before his eyes snapped back to Neji’s.

“ _Oh, gods… Shikamaru…”_

He was so quiet, but ever present was the small whines that came and came and came, a wave ridden out in open mouth panting and a disjointed, whispered _Shika--maru...!_

Shikamaru squeezed him, pulling out the last he could and then some, savoring the way his weight seemed to be perfect for his palms.

Shikamaru watched, and waited, as the body beneath him turned lax, tenseness replaced with a peaceful pliancy. His breathing was loud, like a rubber band that finally snapped, disturbing the stillness of the hot, oppressive air surrounding them.

_Wow_. 

“Shikamaru…”

Shikamaru wiped his hands on his thighs, the bruise of Neji’s hand already making itself known. “Right here.”

It looked like a labor, like he’d rather close his eyes and invite a nap out on the field. Instead, Neji brought himself up to be sitting, leaning back on one hand while the other hesitated on Shikamaru’s thigh, now relaxed but anticipating.

“You’re…” He gestured toward Shikamaru, and his dick that was still very much hard.

He took hold of Shikamaru, and waited just a second, making sure that (despite Shikamaru jacking them both not even two minutes ago) it was still okay. His hands had the sureness expected of Neji, but without the confidence of motion -- still uncertain, still lingering like he’d retreated to his thoughts.

His hand alone felt _so good,_ but that wasn’t a reason to be distracted...

“Neji,” he whispered, loosely grabbing the nape of his neck. “Look at me for a moment.”

Neji did, looking like he first did when he was pinned to the ground in their tossed fight. Cheeks pink, eyebrows dipped in the slightest sign of confusion, eyes avoidant but adamantly committed to contact.

Neji moved his hand, grip a little too loose… up and down against his twitching dick, teasing in the most subtle ways. 

A sound of approval caught in Shikamaru’s throat. “Faster,” because this wasn’t going to be a long affair, and that build was coming on fast and hot and hard and --

Neji leaned in to close their space, pressing an open mouth kiss against that one spot below Shikamaru’s ear.

“ _Ahhh…”_ and to himself he sounded small, accommodating, melting -- the tongue on his neck stripping him apart, hand squeezing around his aching body part.

He just kept sucking, kept working him despite the odd angle -- tightening every time Shikamaru moaned, encouraged each and every syllable of sound that escaped his mouth.

“Neji,” His breath hitched, hand contracting around Neji’s neck, and Neji picked up the pace with a determination dead set on _now_ and _immediately._

A twist of Neji’s wrist was all it took, before --

_“Like that -- fuck, fuck --”_

He chokes on his words as he spills into Neji’s hand -- a ruthless pace set throughout and tugging the last bits out of him like his life depended on it. His tongue was working wonders, sucking into all the little areas he knows turns Shikamaru into a mess and doing so without a moments hesitation.

_Wow…_

There was a mutual agreement to slump into each other after the long seconds dragged out into silence, movement abandoned to the comfort of shoulders and slowing breaths. Shikamaru’s hands rested against his inner thighs, avoidant of the white stains adorning them. Neji’s hands were similarly placed along the lines of Shikamaru’s thighs, his left hand rubbing small circles into the spot he once clasped like he was holding on for life.

Shikamaru could get used to _this_. 

_But there’s still more…_

“Hey, Neji.”

He separated them, and Neji let him -- perched on top of Neji like a roosting bird, hands on his shoulders, the mess between them was almost enough to laugh at.

“Are you okay?” He asked, because no other phrasing sounded right and there was no reason to hide from questions or answers.

Neji nodded. “Yes…”

“But, before…”

Neji turned his profile toward Shikamaru, fingers stopping their slow massage of Shikamaru’s outer thigh. “We don’t need to talk about it...”

Shikamaru couldn’t help the bite in his voice -- a soft bite, like surprise tainted with too many questions yet to be answered.“We sure as hell are. Neji, I need --” 

Neji stopped him with a kiss-- because that’s the easiest way to do it. 

“I just need to know if this,” Shikamaru said into their shared breath, “is working for you… I’m not going to ruin us because I never asked…”

“You’re not going to ruin anything…”

“Call it gut instinct, but you seemed…” 

He didn’t want to say _shy_ . He didn’t want to say _reluctant_. He didn’t want to put words into his mouth, and he didn’t want to project feelings that weren’t really there. What he wanted was to know the parts of him that shied away. 

_Fuck it all_ , he just wanted _him_.

“I’m… not used to this.”

Shikamaru knew that, but that’s the extent of what he knew, so he nodded and said nothing more. 

“I… letting other's.. touch... is new.”

Shikamaru understands, almost painfully well. “We can hold off, if you --”

“Heavens, no,” Neji interjected, leaning in for a kiss so enthusiastic that it knocked the sense out of Shikamaru. Neji continued, “I’m not used to this, and _you_. And… and being…”

A shot in the not-so-dark. “Vulnerable?”

Nodding. “Like you said…”

“What did I say?”

Neji’s skin flushed, and it stretched across his ears and down his neck… He looked off to the side, sheepish. “About me fucking you up, too… You’re in my head, and that’s… that’s what gets to me.”

“Neji…”

“But I like it. It’s just…” He considers several words before settling on, “Learning.”

Neji meets his eyes this time, and he smiles in the short and small way Shikamaru is used to. Shikamaru meets him halfway with a matching smile and a squeeze of the shoulders. “I’ll learn with you.”

Rarely does Neji smile so big and bright, but again, Shikamaru could get used to it. “I’d like that.”

“Next time, would you mind not trying to kill me?” 

If anything could rustle his feathers, that was it. His shoulders tensed and he held his breath. “I should explain--”

Shikamaru laughed through the entire apology, not feeling at all sorry.

~

In the future, Shikamaru’s training went well, and it never -- _usually_ never ended in the same way. The biggest difference, besides his confidence in his tai-jutsu increasing, was the promise of going to some place private _after_ sparring.

Neji didn’t feel the need to throw their matches anymore, either -- though Shikamaru wouldn’t have argued with him if he did.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> headcanon neji is sexually repressed bc 1. hyuuga clan 2. living with byakugan doesn't give many opportunities to explore "self love" or any kind of love, really, and 3. being in love with someone is a hard vulnerability
> 
> im not too sure about the pacing of this one but it's porn sooooo ahahaha
> 
> also, im finally working on a mini story >:)))) it's a semi-sad three parter and im so excited for it 
> 
> thank you for reading! uwu
> 
> [my tumblr](https://fizzypunk.tumblr.com/)


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